Kathy Stroyick is a pert and pugnacious young woman. By her own admission, her favorite hobby is talking.

Her early education was in public schools and she has excellent speech and lipreading skills, but she is now very much a part of the "deaf deaf" world. She is currently president of the Oklahoma Association of the Deaf. Kathy doeson't consider herself as a feminist but she's very much of a crusader for causes that help deaf people.

Kathy and her second husband, Jerry, live in a brand new mobile home in Sand Springs, a suburb of Tulsa. Jerry, a quiet, handsome young man, complements Kathy's sometimes fiery temperament.

I became deaf when I was three years old from measles. My parents didin't realize this until I was six years old. When I was six, I went to a hearing school and that's when my teacher started to suspect I was deaf. She informed my parents but they couldn't bring themselves to believe it. They took me to a speech center and they said that I wasn't deaf. I went back for a second checkup and, sure enough, this time they found out I was deaf. They didn't realize that at first because I was such a good lipreader. In fact, I could read lips so well my mother said I was just stubborn as a mule. "She hears what she wants to hear."

When I was little, I had a body-type hearing aid. I hated it because the other children made fun of me. They would say things like, "Lucky you. You get to listen to the radio in class." Or, "What are you listening to, the news or music?"

Of course I felt bad. I'd cry and hide my hearing aid.

One day I decided I hated that stupid hearing aid so much that I threw it away. My mother asked me why I wasn't wearing my aid. I told her I'd lost it. "A girl at school stole it." So my mother went to the school to meet with the principal and told him that another girl had stolen my aid. Of course, the girl denied it. It hurt her to be accused and she cried. I felt bad about it. I couldn't bring myself to tell the truth.

As I got older, my peer relations improved. I got along fine with the hearing children. I rode the bus to school and the children treated me as their equal. Some of them didn't even know I was deaf. It was funny, some of them repeated what my mother used to say. Sometimes I'd miss some of the conversation and ask the kids to repeat. They'd say, "If you would just pay attention, you'd understand what I said." Or, "Don't act like you're deaf." That let me know that most of them didn't realize I was deaf.

When I was nine years old, my parents died and I went to live with an uncle and aunt. Just before my mother died she made me promise that I would always wear my hearing aid and I promised. Since it was a promise to my mother on her death bed, I've always kept it.

It helps. I understand sounds better, I can tell where the sounds are coming from and it helps me talk better because I can control the level of my voice. I can't really discriminate speech sounds without lipreading unless I know the person well. However, since I have good speech and am a good lipreader, many people think I can hear. Without a hearing aid, I'm completely deaf.

I owe a lot to my sister, Carlotta Senters. She would sit with me and listen to me while reading my library books. If I came across a word that I couldn't pronounce, she made sure I pronounced it correctly. She even made me write a list of words that I didn't know their meanings. One evening she said she would test me on Friday evening to see if I knew the vocabulary meanings. I didn't like the idea, so I threw the list away. Friday came and Carlotta said she wanted the list. I told her, "I don't recall what I did with it." She said, "Fine, go back to the library and check that book out. We'll do it all over again." Boy, I never did that again. I'm so grateful to her. If she hadn't done that, no telling how much knowledge I would have.

I continued in the hearing school until I was 12 years old, then my superintendent, Mrs. McSpadden, recommended to my aunt and uncle that I transfer to the Oklahoma School for the Deaf in Sulphur.

My first year at the Oklahoma School for the Deaf was awful. I thought it would be some kind of speech center because my aunt had told me that the students would be just like me and that's what I expected. Well, the first day I was so distressed I decided I hated the school. I remember the boys signing with their mouths closed, no lip movements at all. And were they signing away! I had never seen hands fly so fast in my life. It really upset me. I wondered how I would be able to relate to those students in the dorm. How would I be able to communicate? Am I going to sit here for the rest of my education with no communication? I wondered how I would be able to play with them. I felt like I just didn't belong.

I spoke to the housemother, Jimmie Kirby, and told her that I thought I didn't belong there. I told her that I needed help and she had to help me. We all loved Jimmie. She had a deaf daughter and she was a mother to all of us deaf girls. Jimmie told me after I learned sign language, it would be better because most of the students preferred signing to talking. So I set out to learn sign language.

At first I was fascinated and I'd stare at them, watching their faces, which were so expressive, and their body language. But the students would tell me to stop staring at them. After that, I felt so bad that I didn't even look at them. The housemother sat down and taught me fingerspelling and I learned that in about 30 minutes. I mastered basic sign language in about two or three weeks and picked up new vocabulary every day. Some of the kids started helping me with new signs. They got tired of me fingerspelling.

The dormitory was rough at first. It seemed like through the first year all the girls were picking on me all the time and I couldn't fight back because I didn't want to get in trouble with the housemothers. They would steal my clothes and do other personal things like that. They told me that if I complained to the housemothers, I'd get beat up. I couldn't tattle-tale on them. There were so many things it seemed that I couldn't do and if I did, I could be in double trouble with the deaf students. They would get sarcastic when I used my voice to speak. They would say, "This is a deaf school not a hearing school. Can't you read the word D-E-A-F? Don't you know what it means? Well, then, sign; don't talk. Blab, blab, blab." "You want to talk, then go back to public school." It was so hard on me.

It got to the point that when the housemothers spoke to me, I'd sign back with my mouth closed and ask them to please sign to me because all the kids would be watching.

Gradually I began to fit in. As my signing improved, the kids stopped making fun of me. After that, it was great. I really loved the residential school. After my first year, when new kids arrived at school. I'd warn them to brace themselves for a year of hard knocks.

The deaf kids showed me the other side of the world. There isn't just one world, there is another world. I learned so many things that I wouldn't have learned if I had stayed in hearing schools. I had been so proud of my lipreading skills that I was shocked at how much more I understood when the teachers signed and spoke simultaneously. There were a few deaf teachers who didn't talk, but I found their signed lectures easier to follow than when I depended on lipreading alone.

I learned how to take care of myself, how to live on my own, how to relate to other people, how to get along. All deaf children need the experience of attending a residential school. Everything that we need to get ready to face the world is right there. Some of the classwork was repetitious but I'm still happy that I went to the deaf school.

Many of the other students were bright, but it was really easy for me to get good grades because much of the information was just a repeat of what I had learned in the hearing schools. One day I went to the principal's office and said that I was tired of learning nothing new, just getting the same old information that I had already learned. I told the principal that the classes were too easy for me and that I wanted something different. The principal said, "I'm sorry, but you have to go by what the other kids go by. If we separate you, then you'd be by yourself. We don't have the financial resources to give you a staff person on a one-to-one basis. We cannot afford that."

I graduated in 1974. I can't help but brag: My class was the first class to graduate in the new auditorium, we had the governor to give the commencement address and I was the valedictorian of my class. Of course, we had only 34 boys and girls in the class.

After I graduated, I found out I didn't know everything. For example, I didn't know anything about insurance. I didn't even know how to write checks. I thought checks were the greatest thing ever invented until I found out you have to have money in the bank (laughs, infectiously).

I got married right after graduation. My first husband was a hearing man and knew sign language because he worked at the residential school. I imagined it would make me superior to the other deaf people if I married a hearing person. Was I ever wrong! We have one son who is now nine years old. He lives with his father.

That marriage never worked out. Of course it depends on the individuals, but when a deaf person marries a hearing person there are going to be problems. For example, I'd never know who my husband was talking to on the phone. He'd talk on and on and refuse to even say who he had been talking to, or say it was his mother when I knew it was someone else. I felt excluded. I wasn't always able to read his lips and when I asked him to repeat, he'd say, "Why don't you pay attention?" He didn't like to use sign language. He didn't have patience with me; we never could sit and talk things over. He didn't think much of deaf people; in fact, he disliked them. I'd say, "Well, I'm deaf, too. Does that mean I'm bad, too?" Then he'd say he meant other deaf people, but I still couldn't have friends. The worst thing was he acted like I embarrassed him. He would tell people, "Oh, she can't hear, she can't hear," as if he didn't want me to join the conversation.

Once I got my divorce and married a deaf man, it was so much better. We can discuss our problems and share things. We trust each other. We know who's on the TTY, so we don't imagine things or feel left out. Anyway, Jerry hates to talk on the telephone. With my deaf husband, I feel much more comfortable because of his attitude that I'm deaf and I'm proud. Since he's proud, it makes me proud that I don't let my hearing disability bother me. I can forget I'm deaf when we're with our deaf friends. He never asks me to order for him in restaurants. He will write to the waitress. He isn't ashamed of being deaf. I like that.

After I graduated from high school, I worked at the residential school as a housemother. I worked with the older boys for about four years, until my divorce. After that I didn't want to stay. Then I moved to Tulsa and worked for Blue Cross Blue Shield on a CRT. I quit that job because of the low pay; I couldn't live on just $3.25 an hour.

Finally I got a job at the post office and I've been working there for the past four years. I like the money and I hate the job. Money is great but the job is awful. They don't understand deaf people at the post office. We are not allowed to talk with each other while the hearing people can throw mail or type away while they talk with their co-workers. If they can do it, why not us? If I miss a few letters, what's the difference? The hearing workers miss a few, too. The supervisors say we need our hands to work and I know what they mean but, at the same time, the hearing people need their eyes to watch the keys but they look around and they talk, so what's the difference? The hearing supervisors pretend not to notice that. Some day I hope I'll be able to break through the barriers so we can have a better communication between deaf employees and our supervisors.

Several years ago I decided that I really wanted to do something with my life. I needed change. I was getting tired of the same old routine, coming home to cook, eat, clean the house, look at TV, sleep and go back to work. Same old thing day after day. I decided to join the Oklahoma Association of the Deaf (OAD). I hoped to be able to pull more young deaf people into the organization because it's very important. I'm now president of the OAD. Jerry is very understanding about the demands it makes on our time and very supportive of our goals. It's an important part of our lives.

The OAD isn't the organization of days gone past; it's more assertive, more concerned about the future and more active politically. We need to attract more young people while learning from the old-timers. Some of the young people say the OAD is just an organization for old foggies but these old-timers have the experience and the know-how. They know what they are talking about. Some of the young deaf people think it's a social association where you go to sit around and yak and expect a good time. OAD isn't a good time, it's serious business. So, as president of the OAD, I hope to get more young people involved with assistance from the older, more experienced members.

Recently we got the State Legislature to approve a bill providing free TDDs to deaf people who couldn't afford to buy their own and also 24-hour answering services for deaf people.

I hope that one day we'll be able to have a nursing home just for deaf people and staffed with people fluent in sign language. Some will have to be hearing, but some can be deaf.

The OAD sponsored a leadership workshop last February. It was my first workshop and I learned so much. I learned a lot about setting up and running meetings. While I was there, I observed the crowd and noticed about ten people who weren't paying attention at all. Some of them were busy grooming themselves or making eyes at each other. I didn't like it.

I'm really worried because Ralph White might retire soon. White and others have contributed so much in Oklahoma. Without them, we would never have moved on to where we are. I hope I can pick up where they leave off and keep in touch with them to help understand about politics. Perhaps one day I'll learn enough to lead a workshop and teach other young people what I've learned.

I now feel more a part of the deaf world and I like it. There are aspects of the hearing world that we have to accept because it isn't a deaf world, it's mostly a hearing world. Many deaf people can't stand it when I say that, but it's true. Certainly I prefer the deaf world but you've got to accept parts of the hearing world. Personally, I like the deaf world better than the hearing world even if I do have good oral skills because I understand what's going on. In the hearing world I have to ask them to repeat so many times and end up feeling down.

I may go into a clothing store and the sales clerk will come up to me and say something but I won't hear her. Then she'll tap me on the shouder and say, "May I help you?" I'll say, "I'm just looking around, thank you." She'll ask, "Can you hear?" I'll say, "No, I'm deaf." Then sometimes the clerk will start talking about how she knew another deaf person or had a deaf relataive and go on and on when I want to do my shopping, not talk about deafness. It's great when I need help and the salesperson can sign a bit, but I don't like talking about deafness all the time.

Maybe this is because such conversations often lead to discussion about some oral deaf person and there's a big difference between oral deaf and signing deaf adults. From what I've seen, the oral deaf people don't seem to fit into either world. It's like they're in a world of their own. Many oral deaf people object to being called deaf because they connect it with the idea of deaf and dumb. So they'll say, "I'm not dumb. I'm oral and smart." I've been insulted that way.

One time an oral deaf person saw me talking and asked if I were deaf or oral. What difference does it make? Oh, God, I never say "I'm deaf," or "I'm oral." I just say, "I'm Kathy." Period But, honestly, I mostly say I'm deaf.

I'm concerned about the impact of mainstreaming. I don't like it because I've met several young deaf adults (they use the word adults but they're really youths) and they didn't understand the things I understand. They didn't have the benefits that I had. And there's a problem with interpreting: Some of the interpreters appear to have their own homemade sign systems. The children may understand them because they've gotten used to it, but they're confused after they leave school.

I learned as much in the dormitory at the deaf school as I did in the classroom and we had all kinds of activities and sports: basketball,swimming, bowling, baseball, track. I was able to be an active participant, not just a sub or bystander. Those mainstream kids are missing out on a lot of worthwhile activities.

I'm also concerned about the number of deaf people getting SSI and SSDI. Jobs are good for us. When I earn my own money, I have a sense of accomplishment. When I buy something like a television or car or a mobile home, I feel proud. If I could work and was living on SSI or SSDI, I wouldn't be able to show my face around town; I would be too embarrassed. Not only can most deaf people work, they should work. I'm not talking about those who are really disabled, people who want to work but their condition won't let them, I'm referring to those who just sit on their fannies and do nothing (signing emphatically). I'm completely against that!

I'm tired of talking about this subject. Let me tell you about my hobbies. I like fishing and I have a weak spot for camping. I love to go camping, but it must be in a tent; I have no use for cabins. I like to camp near water and cook on a little portable stove. I like fishing from a mini-boat. Sometimes, when the bugs are biting you everywhere, it gets on my nerves but I still go fishing. I don't know if you're familiar with the lakes around here, but I like Tenkiller Lake as well as Euflafla, Keystone and Sahoma Lakes. They are clear water lakes and you can catch some big fish. I like to eat the small channel catfish but not the real big ones like the flat head catfish - they taste awful!. I just love black bass and crappies. I could eat black bass every day if I had to.

And how I love captioned TV! I won't miss my favorite programs for anything. If an important meeting is scheduled during one of my programs, I'll skip it just to stay home and watch captioned TV. Like Dynasty, Knott's Landing and what's that other one? Oh, The Colbys. I don't care if it's the President of the United States, nothing comes before Dynasty! Thank God for VCRs. You can't miss it!

And I like to talk. I can really talk all day. Now that I think of it, I guess talking's my favorite hobby. (Kathy laughed and clapped her hands to end the interview.)

Gail Hyde
Project Coordinator, Web Design